


Hitch Hiker

by nuandia



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 18:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuandia/pseuds/nuandia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well that leaves one more possibility” Enjolras doesn't like Combeferre's tone. It sounds like a restrained laughter but also complete seriousness. </p>
<p>“Which is?”</p>
<p>“Hitch-hiking”</p>
<p>“You're joking, right?”, Enjolras asks but already knows that Combeferre is not. </p>
<p>“Do you have a different idea?” Enjolras stays silent and he can hear Combeferre snort through the phone. “That's what I thought. Try it at least”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hitch Hiker

Enjolras has an idea how this happened but he will remain calm. Or at least that's what he's telling himself. He curses and throws his wallet against the passengers seat's window where it falls down with a quiet thud. He should be at the protest in about four hours but it's not going to work with an empty tank and ten euros in his wallet.   
Why did he ever agreed to let Courfeyrac live with him and Combeferre. They had a space room and it was much cheaper for all of them to share but Courfeyrac is just … well Courfeyrac. He is too loud and too happy in the morning. He starts laughing out of nowhere and always ruining his morning coffee.   
He just takes what he wants and doesn't write on their board when they need to buy milk or sugar or whatever. They see it when they need it.   
Just like now.   
He didn't have a full tank when he started but the fuel is pretty expensive in Paris so he hoped he could get some on his way. Now here, in Vierzon the price is alright, so he stopped and wanted to fill up his car when he discovered that his cash card was gone. He was in the middle of nowhere, well Vierzon, with only ten euros and an almost empty tank. How could he get to Toulouse in time?   
He closes his eyes and tries to breathe calmly. 

Enjolras opens his eyes at a ringing tone. His cellphone. He snatches it from his backpack in the backseat. Courfeyrac.

“I'm going to kill you”, he growls and grits his teeth. 

“Thank you”, a calm and neutral voice answers. Enjolras breathes in and out deeply. 

“Sorry”, he murmurs.

“So, why are you planning on killing Courfeyrac … again?”, Combeferre asks.

“Because I am here in some city with an empty tank and no money. He also took my cash card. I have nothing, Combeferre. I am stuck here”, he sighs and opens the door to get out of the car and to lean against it.

“Where are you?”, Combeferre asks and Enjolras tries his hardest to stay calm. It is not Combeferre's fault, he'll kill Courf later. 

“Vierzon”, he answers.

“That's over 400 kilometers away”

“I know, thank you. I am going to miss the protest”.

“Maybe that's not so bad” Enjolras wants to interject but Combeferre continues quickly. “You're always so absorbed in your work. I'll manage everything”

“I have the main speech”, Enjolras rumbles and shakes his head. 

Combeferre is quiet for a moment. The blond knows his friend is thinking and so he doesn't want to interrupt. Combeferre can look at things in a remarkable calm way. An ability Enjolras doesn't posses and never will. 

“Train or cab?”

“Seriously? I have no money”

“Well that leaves one more possibility” Enjolras doesn't like Combeferre's tone. It sounds like a restrained laughter but also complete seriousness. 

“Which is?”

“Hitch-hiking”

“You're joking, right?”, Enjolras asks but already knows that Combeferre is not. 

“Do you have a different idea?” Enjolras stays silent and he can hear Combeferre snort through the phone. “That's what I thought. Try it at least”.

“Alright”, he mumbles and says goodbye to Combeferre. After that he rubs his temple. He is still not convinced that hitch-hiking is what he should do because, let's be honest, it's hitch-hiking. You're going to sit next to somebody you don't know at all. He could do whatever he wanted. But fuck, he needs to be at this protest. He can't miss it. He worked the nights through to perfect his speeches. They are perfect now and worth being heard. 

He takes his backpack out of his car and locks it afterwards.  
Is he really considering to go to Toulouse by hitch-hiking? Those guys who are doing it are usually, well not considerable to let into your own car. That's his opinion. He would never … almost never let anyone into his car. Why should other people feel any different?  
He scowls and scratches his cheek. He needs coffee. If he remembers right, there is a little coffee shop down the road. He'll take on and will go hitch-hiking afterwards.   
Awesome plan.

 

The café is little and quiet. There is a woman at the counter and pours some dark liquid, probably coffee, into a guys cup, who sits slumped down at the counter and takes a flask out of his pocket and fills his cup while the woman smiles at Enjolras. 

“Bonjour Monsieur”, she greets him and he sits down next to the guy with the coffee. His hair is dark and full of unruly curls. He wears a dark jeans and a t-shirt with a comic book figure on it.   
He turns his head when Enjolras sits down. He does nothing else but staring. Enjolras tries to ignore and looks at the woman. 

“A coffee, please”, he says and she nods. She takes another cup and pours the coffee into it and then shoves it gently over to him. 

“Here you go”, she smiles and Enjolras nods thankful. He folds his hands around the cup and feels its warmth. It helps him a little to relax. 

“Hi”, the guy next to him finally starts to talk other than just staring. 

“Hi”, Enjolras replies dryly and turns away. He isn't in a mood to talk to some stranger. He just wants to get to Toulouse and the possibility that he may net arrive in time gives him stomach ache. The blond stretches his fingers around the cup and lifts it up to his lips. 

“It's still too hot. You'll burn your lips”, the stranger next to him says and smiles lazily. 

“Thanks. I would never have thought about it”, Enjolras answers sarcastically without looking at him. 

“So, what's upsetting you?”

This is the first time Enjolras takes a closer look at the stranger. The dark curls frame his face in a wild way. He looks like he has never known a comb. His eyes are clear but somewhat tired.

“Why would you assume something's upsetting me?”, Enjolras asks and takes a sip from his coffee. He curses as the hot liquid touches his lips and tongue. 

“Told you”, the stranger says happily and grins and shows his teeth. “And I just had the feeling. You have a pretty concerned look on your face. Smile a little bit, stop worrying”.

“Sure”

“No, really, Apollo.”

Enjolras stares at the stranger until he shakes his head and says “don't call me that” and turns his attention back to his cup of coffee. 

“So, where are you heading?”, the guy asks after a moment of silence and sips on his coffee. It does smell suspiciously like alcohol. He's not sure but he thinks so. 

“Toulouse”

“Really? Why?”

“I am- why should I tell you? I don't even know you”

“Right. I didn't introduce myself, where are my manners”, the guy smirks and holds a hand to Enjolras. “My name is Grantaire, but you can call me R”.

He takes Grantaire's hand and shakes it. “Enjolras”, he says.

“So Apollo, why are you worrying about getting to Toulouse when the only thing you should do is sitting in a car by now, is?”

“You know my name now, can't you just call me by that?”

“I can, but it doesn't really fit you. And now, you didn't answer my question. Why do you have to go to Toulouse?”

Enjolras looks at him for a moment. He shouldn't just tell a stranger where he wants to go and why. There are enough crazy people outside who would take advantage of those information. 

“Business”, he answers instead and watches the coffee closely. The dark liquid which reflects his eye and a bit of his cheek. He shouldn't waste his time in a café. He needs to be on the road to go to Toulouse. He takes his wallet out of his backpack and pays his coffee. 

“You're in a hurry?”, Grantaire asks and Enjolras shrugs but downs his still warm coffee in a few gulps. 

“Yeah, I don't have time”, he says, turns around and heads to the exit. 

“Bye”, Grantaire calls and his voice sounds strangely concerned. 

“Bye”, he says without turning around and leaves.

 

He doesn't like going next to the street but he has to get to Toulouse somehow. Maybe he'll be lucky and someone will pick him up, otherwise there will be no protest for him. And that after hours long work. 

“Fuck”, he mutters and keeps going, scowling at the little distance he's making. About 470 kilometers is Toulouse away and he can't believe his bad luck. He hears a car arriving and extends his arm with his thumb up. The car drives by without slowing down. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair and keeps going.   
He should just have driven with all the others. He didn't because he had to end his speech. Well technically it had been done but he thought about different topics and problems which he had to include and so he said he'd take his own car. 

The next car comes closer but also this drives away without getting slower. Enjolras looks at his watch. There isn't much time anymore. He keeps walking. There are more cars who are driving by him but none of them slows down. 

 

After a while he doesn't even turn around anymore he just waits until the cars drive by. That is until he hears a car arriving slowly. It stops when it is next to Enjolras and lets the windows slide down. In the car is the guy from the café.

“I thought you were in a hurry”, he asks. 

Enjolras sighs but answers. “Still am. I just don't know how to get there.”

“Toulouse, huh”, Grantaire mumbles and scratches his stubble. 

“Yeah”

“If you want to, you can ride with me. It's not Toulouse but Montauban is nearby.”

Enjolras tries to imagine a map of France. He is not sure but he thinks Montauban is really close. Well not too close but he'll get close. And maybe then one of his friends will take him from there. It does sound like a plan or more like a better plan than he has. Also, what other options does he have? Sure he can still wait for another car stopping but even if that's going to happen he can't be sure if the person is much saner than Grantaire is and if the person is driving in his direction.   
He can still get out of the vehicle if he feels uncomfortable. 

“I'll pay you back”, he answers and opens the passengers door. Grantaire smiles at him. 

“Sure you do”, he says.

The car is not really clean. On the backseat are empty bottles and there's dirt on the floor. The passenger seat smells like french fries. Enjolras looks at it for a moment before he sits down carefully. He puts his backpack on the backseat without it touching one of the empty alcohol bottles. Wine and beer. And some stronger stuff. 

Grantaire grins brightly at him. 

“So, you drank?”, Enjolras asks while still still inspecting the car. Joly would never have set a foot in here, even if he had to, he thinks smiling slightly.

Grantaire smiles, still brightly and nods. “Sure did”.

“You shouldn't drive”

Grantaire shrugs. 

“I'm serious. You shouldn't drive”

“Then you do it”

Enjolras looks up surprisingly and searches the face of the other for jokes. 

“You're serious?”

“I am wild. But yeah, I mean it.”

Enjolras gets out of the car again and over to the drivers seat. Grantaire throws the keys at him in a high bow and Enjolras catches them. 

“Be careful with my baby”, he grins and sits down at the passengers seat. Enjolras nods and takes his place at the driver's seat. It is less dirty there but not a lot. He shrugs and turns the key in the ignition lock and brings the car to life. 

He drives along the street. The car is older, not as new as his own. But it is better to drive with this than having no car at all.

“So, what exactly are you doing in Toulouse, where you have to be so urgently”, Grantaire says and leans his head against the seat and closes his eyes. 

“There's a protest which I am attending. It is important to me. My friends and I wrote speeches related to its topic. It is important that the people will inform themselves and won't just endure what the government says”, Enjolras answers, eyes on the road.   
Next to him, he can hear Grantaire snort and mumble something. 

“What was that?”, he asks, bothered by the reaction of the other. 

“Nothing”.

“Really?”

“What is the thing you're demonstrating against anyway?”

“Are you really interested in that?”

“Sure, why not. I am open for everything. Now lecture me, protest boy”

Enjolras bites his lip for a moment before he answers, “It is about the people to care more about politics. It also contains topics of the death sentence-”

“Which we haven't since-”

“It is not only about our country”, Enjolras bursts out and glares at Grantaire for a moment for interrupting him until he fixes his eyes on the street again. 

“Then what is it about?”

Enjolras moistens his lips with his tongue and glances shortly at the brunet who has his eyes open now and looks at him with a lazy but attentive gaze. 

“It is about making the people aware of the politic situation. It is about so much more than our own country. Of course we shouldn't suffer but in comparison to other countries we are … well. Look at those poor bastards in America. There are still people who die by the law. It is not right. Neither is the situation in the east. I do care mostly about my own country because there aren't politicians who you can trust. They all promise the one thing and do the other thing. If the people stay oblivious and deny the fact that our own country has to become honest to help others then what will happen”, he breathes out heavily and looks over to Grantaire for a moment who nods slightly, eyes closed like he thinks about his words and its meaning. 

“But that doesn't mean people care about being aware or are interested. Most of them just roll with it and don't bother doing anything. When they have to decide, they'll do what is more pleasant to do”, Grantaire says. 

“But that's the point. I want to make them realize that it if they keep not caring, we'll never be able to actually change a thing”.

“They don't want to change things. See, it's like that. As long bad things happen out of people's reach, they don't care. Why should they? It's not bothering them. It's not concerning them. They are too lazy, they have problems of their own and always will be. You can't change that”.

Enjolras grips the wheel hard. His knuckles shining white but that's the best way to control himself. 

“But at least I have to try. Yes, there are problems, a lot problems in this country which are made of injustice and the sooner you can solve them, the sooner you can work at big problems. It's not the people, there are those people who shall guide who are wrong.”

“Yeah, guiding people. Well there I have some guides for you, for example take Germany or-”

“Not that kind of a guide. Someone who won't lie, someone who shall always have the best of the people in their minds. Someone-”

“You know that's not going to happen.”

“I am talking of politicians who shall be truthful to their people and their country”

“Well good luck with that”, Grantaire snorts and wipes some dark curls out of his forehead but they keep falling in place. “I am going to sleep”.

 

The drive is boring and silent. After a while Enjolras tries to turn on the radio, but it's broken so he lets it be and concentrates on the street. If he keeps this pace, he'll be in Toulouse just in time. Well, he hopes.   
Grantaire still lies next to him. He stopped snoring about ten minutes ago, which Enjolras is thankful for. They should be in Limoges in less than half an hour. He plans on stopping there and calling Combeferre and asking him to get him in Montauban.

“We're there”, Grantaire mumbles sleepily as to inform somebody and sits up. He yawns and rubs his eyes and looks at Enjolras. His eyes goo wide like he can't believe that there's another person driving his car. 

“You remember me, right?”, Enjolras asks and Grantaire nods swiftly. 

“Yeah, sorry”, he smiles and lets his tongue slide over his teeth. “Eyes on the road”, he says mockingly and Enjolras turns around to keep his eyes on the street. 

“Where are we?”, Grantaire asks yawning and frowns a little. 

“We should be in Limoges soon”, Enjolras says. 

“If you want, we can change there”, Grantaire says and shrugs. 

“You want to drive?”

“It's my car, isn't it?”

“Yes, but you drank”, Enjolras says and glances at the other. 

“Yes but not that much. Furthermore with my drinking history the alcohol just goes through me. And with it also its effects. I'm as sober as possible”.

Enjolras looks at him doubtfully. “Sure”

“You don't believe me, do you?”

“No”

“I will prove it then”, Grantaire decides and leans back into the seat, he starts inspecting his fingernails while Enjolras just sighs. Hopefully he'll arrive in Toulouse in one piece. 

 

When they arrive in Limoges, Enjolras drives to the next filling station. He gets out of the car and buys something light to eat. When he returns Grantaire already sits on the drivers seat and looks at a map. Enjolras sighs and shakes his head. He doesn't know how save it is to let the other one have the wheel. But it's not his car unfortunately. 

“You ready?”, Grantaire asks without looking up from the map and Enjolras lets himself fall on the passengers seat wordlessly. Grantaire scrunches the map and throws it behind him at the backseat while Enjolras fumbles in his backpack for his cellphone. 

“Who are you calling?”, Grantaire asks while starting the car and looking at the street. 

“One of my friends”, Enjolras answers while typing at his cellphone and cursing slightly. Since Courfeyrac convinced him to buy one of those new ones which whose you can even go in internet, he didn't understand it before.   
When he is home again, he'll just look for his old one which Courfeyrac hid somewhere. He hopes really hard that he didn't just throw it away. 

“Why”, he asks. 

“They can pick me up in Montauban”, he mumbles and presses the cellphone to his ear. Grantaire grumbles something but Enjolras is not in the mood to find out what exactly he grumbled. 

“Enjolras?”, he hears Combeferre's voice finally and he smiles.

“Yes, it's me”

“What is it?”

That's a thing he really appreciates about Combeferre. He doesn't do Smalltalk but gets to the point very soon. 

“I found someone to drive me”, he says and glances over to Grantaire who suspiciously tries not to listen to him. 

“You did?”, Combeferre sounds genuinely surprised. 

“I did”, he confirms. 

“Enjolras found someone to drive him”, he hears Combeferre saying, most likely to his friends. 

“No way”, says one of the, he thinks it is Courfeyrac who he thinks snatches the cellphone out of Combeferre's hands, because the next voice he hears is Courfeyrac's. 

“You're lying”, he says to him and he feels like he should take offence at that.

“I'm not”, he says. 

“Prove it. Let me speak to the person”. 

“I'm not handing over the cellphone. Driving and phoning is an offe-”

He looks at Grantaire who grins at him and presses the cellphone on his ear.

“Hello?”

Enjolras folds his arms in front of his chest, while watching Grantaire who laughs at something probably Courfeyrac said. 

“Yep”, he says and Enjolras doesn't like knowing almost nothing from the conversation. 

“No, don't worry. It's fun”, Grantaire laughs while Enjolras rolls his eyes. 

“Yes, I'll keep that in mind”, is the last thing Grantaire says smiling before handing him his cellphone over again. Enjolras takes it again. 

“I can't believe it. You didn't lie”, Courfeyrac almost screams into his ear. 

“I know”, he answers dryly. 

“Can I talk to Combeferre again, please?”

“No, wait. How did you bring him to drive you? You are as charming as a cactus”

“Courfeyrac, I'll answer to all of your questions when I'm there. But would you give me Combeferre now?”

“But-”

“Now, Courfeyrac”

He can hear Courf grumble something and then hears Combeferre's voice again. Finally. 

“So, why are you calling exactly?”, he asks and Enjolras sighs silently and looks out of the window. 

“Grantaire isn't driving to Toulouse. He has an exhibition in Montauban. So can somebody drive there and get me?”

Combeferre is silent for a moment in which Enjolras continues to look out of the window and tries to ignore the gazes he can feel on his skin. 

“I think I can persuade Bahorel into doing it”, he says finally. Bahorel of all people who thinks speed limits are meant to be broken. It's incredible how he drives like a mad man but had never been zapped for driving too fast. It's like he knows exactly where to drive slowly and where to drive how he wants to. 

“Alright”, he agrees and maybe that's not a bad thing because when Bahorel is driving, he'll be there definitely in time. 

“Write a message when you're near Montauban”, Combeferre says and Enjolras mumbles something to agree. 

“See you”, he turns his phone of and stuffs it back into his backpack. 

“So, this were your friends”, Grantaire says and looks over to Enjolras, still grinning. 

“Well, maybe”, he mumbles and closes his eyes. 

“They sound nice”

“You were only talking to Courfeyrac”, Enjolras says and cracks an eye open. 

“So, you say your friends aren't nice?”

“No”, Enjolras answers and sits up again, watching Grantaire who drives carefully. “I just say that you can't make a judgment without knowing my friends”

Grantaire hums quietly. “I like almost everyone”, he says. 

“Hm”, Enjolras grumbles and looks out of the window again. It is kind of weird that he feels almost comfortable in presence with a stranger who he knows since two or three hours. Grantaire is just different and it bothers him that he almost doesn't know him and he likes him. It's unusual for him. 

He shakes his head and turns around again to his backpack and snatches his snack. He unfolds it and takes a bite. He hasn't eaten since early in the morning and even then he only had a cup of coffee and a toast. He is not a big eater, has never been. Cooking and eating just takes too much time, which he can also spend to make something useful. 

“I am hungry”, Grantaire says next to him and eyes his snack. 

“You've got something in your backpack?”, Enjolras asks and Grantaire shakes his head. 

“Why not?”

“I didn't think it would take this long”, he groans and Enjolras frowns. 

“You drive some hours until you arrive and you didn't choose to make you something or to buy something?”

“What are you, my mother?”, Grantaire grumbles and looks at him. Enjolras sighs and looks at his own snack. “You want something from mine?”, Enjolras asks and raises his eyebrows. 

Grantaire smiles brightly and nods enthusiastically. 

Enjolras bites his lip. He doesn't really know why he suggested it. But now that he did, he unfolds the paper from his snack and reaches out to Grantaire who makes an attempt to take it in his hand, that is until Enjolras pulls it back to him. 

“No”, he says and Grantaire looks shortly confused at him 

“What? I thought you'd let me take a bite”

“Yes, but hands on the wheel”, Enjolras says strictly and he can see how a smile stretches on Grantaire's lips. 

“You want to feed me?”, he asks . 

“Shut up”, Enjolras says, blushing slightly, but nevertheless raises his arm again and brings his snack to Grantaire's mouth who takes a big bite. 

“You couldn't just take it all in your mouth?”, he grumbles and looks at his sandwich, which is almost gone now. Well, that was his snack. When he meets Grantaire's gaze, the artist wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Sure could”, he says and licks his lips. 

Enjolras does not blush and turns his head away again. 

“I was just saying that you took a way too big bite”, he says, still looking out of the window and he can hear Grantaire laugh softly. It sounds nice. 

“Yeah, I got that”, he driver says and Enjolras eats the rest of his snack.  
When he's done he puts the paper back into his backpack and closes his eyes and truly relaxes. 

“So, Montauban”, he mumbles, eyes closed and leaned against the seat. 

“Yeah”, Grantaire says. 

“What is there exactly?”

“Well, there's an exhibition. I'm an artist. I'm painting and some of my friends think I'm good. Actually they went with some of my paintings to one of the organizers and asked if they could get exhibited. He agreed and well, know I'm driving there”, Enjolras can almost hear him smile. 

“So you're good”, Enjolras says. Grantaire sighs. 

“I told you, that's what my friends say”

“But well, I can't do anything but painting, so, this has to make enough money for me not to starve. It worked until now”. 

“So, you are good”

“Sometimes. When I see the right muse”

“What are you painting?”

“Depends”, Grantaire sighs. “If I have someone to be my model. In what mood I am. If I have a muse or not”, his voice sounds affectionately at those last words, but Enjolras doesn't know why, or better, he doesn't cares. He is tired, after staying awake the night for working and waking up the next for completing the speech. He knows he didn't get much sleep lately but he didn't care. Now is the perfect opportunity to sleep a little. He trusts Grantaire enough, which is also quite weird, to not throw him out. After a few moments, he's asleep.

 

 

When he wakes up sleepily his head is pressed against the window. Behind his neck is a pillow and he can't remember having it when he went to sleep. He turns his head slightly and sees Grantaire. His face is concentrating and a closed cup is in his right hand. 

“You shouldn't drive like this”, Enjolras murmurs and he sees that Grantaire smiles at his words. 

“Yeah, I have the feeling I'll never forget those words.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes. 

“Idiot”, he murmurs and means it. 

Grantaire still smiles and shrugs. 

“But really, you shouldn't drive.”

“I know”

“You consumed alcohol. It's not save. And you're driving with only one hand on the wheel.” he is not really that concerned about that fact anymore. He'd been asleep with the knowledge that Grantaire drank. Now complaining about it didn't make much sense.

“I won't let anything happen to you”, he says still smiling but with a concerned undertone. Enjolras is not sure what that means but he stays still. He turns his face to the window and looks at the trees which slide by. 

The blond yawns and rubs his eyes. He tries to stretch himself as much as possible in the little car.

“Let me take this”, he mumbles and takes the coffee cup from Grantaire. The cup is wet and a little bit sticky. He looks around in the car for tissues or anything to clean himself from it. When he doesn't find anything he opens the glove compartment. “Do you have any tissues here?”, he asks while rummaging in it. It is full with papers and garbage and leaflets. One of them has the date of today on it. It looked interesting for someone like Grantaire. An exhibition of modern art. 

“No, I don't think- what are you doing?”

“I'm looking for something to wipe my hands, becau-”, he takes a closer look at the leaflet. He doesn't exactly know why. It has to be this exhibition where some of Grantaire's paintings are for selling. But it's not in Montauban like the artist said. Orléans says the leaflet. That's the exact opposite direction.

“It's my personal stuff”, Grantaire says and glances across Enjolras. 

“Where's your exhibition”, Enjolras asks and feels a slight shiver creep up his spine. 

“I told you. It's in Montauban”, the dark haired man says trying to sound convincing. 

“Don't lie to me!”, Enjolras says fiercely and a little bit shriekly and grabs a hold at the seat. Why would somebody drive him to Toulouse or at least Montauban if they have to drive the exact opposite direction. It doesn't make any sense. 

“Let me out”

“Apollo, calm down, it's not what you-”

“It's not what I think? Why would a stranger drive me halfway through the country if they have an exhibition at the exact opposite direction. What exactly are you thinking then? Stop the car. I want out”

“Apollo-”

“Don't call me that. Let me out.”, the coffee falls down at the floor of the car but neither of them cares.

Enjolras doesn't know what he is feeling but he needs fresh air. Being any longer with this stranger in the same car will only upset him more. His hands are shaking so he folds them and lays them on his legs and stares at the floor. The top of the coffee cup lies net to his food. His shoes are a little soaked in the liquid.   
He can feel that the vehicle getting slower and then he sees that they are driving on a picnic area. As soon as the car is still, Enjolras storms out and breathes deep in and out. His hands are still shaking and when he rubs them at the fabric of his trousers he can feel they are still sticky. He wants to wash them. He wants to do something which doesn't involve thinking. He is confused and upset. 

“Enjolras”, Grantaire says calmly and stays some foot away from him. Good for him, he thinks and turns around to face him. 

“Let me explain”, he gets quieter while he talks and fumbles with his fingers. He seems nervous. 

“Go on”

Grantaire takes a deep breathe and looks around. He bites at his lips and opens his mouth to say something but closes it again. 

“I didn't want to upset you”, he says and pauses. Enjolras folds his arms in front of his chest. He has the feeling that he is in control again. It calms him down somehow. Grantaire doesn't seem like a crazy guy who picks up people to kill them. Well maybe his fantasy takes a too unbelievable turn. 

“Alright. Maybe this'll creep you out. I'm sorry”, he pauses again and fixes a tree next to Enjolras. 

“Go on”, he repeats and nods at Grantaire who doesn't seem to see the motion. 

“When you went in that café, I just … I wanted to get to know you. But I didn't know how. You weren't interested and I .. well I can't say I would have wanted to meet me. But … I don't know. Then when I heard where you were heading I decided to take a shot. Yes I lied when I told you that the exhibition with my paintings are in Montauban but I just said that because I knew that you wouldn't get in my car if I would have told you it was in Orléans. You would just have thought that I was a creepy stalking guy and … well”, he looks at Enjolras for the first time and makes eye contact with him. 

“I'm really sorry I lied to you”

“You are kind of creepy”, Enjolras admits and Grantaire smiles weakly.

“I know.”

“You were willing to miss your exhibition for a guy you knew nothing about?”

Grantaire shrugs. 

“What would you have done if I was a crazy slasher murderer?”

“Well, you are an idealistic, arrogant bastard”, Grantaire smiles and shrugs again. “I would have died, I suppose”

“You're an idiot”, Enjolras says and shakes his head. He's calm again. 

“So”, Grantaire starts after a moment of silence and makes a move towards the car. “Are you willing to ride with me again?”

Enjolras stays silent but nods eventually and Grantaire sighs relieved. “Good”. He's smiling happily at that. 

They still don't return to the car, although they should. Enjolras should. There is a protest he wants to be after all. He sighs and rubs his eyes. He didn't expect something like this happen when he woke up. He shakes his head and goes back to the car. Grantaire follows him. When they sit back in there, he starts the car. It is a little awkward. Enjolras doesn't know what to say. He has to get used to this situation at first. 

“So”, he says after ten minutes passed and looks over to Grantaire, who keeps his gaze firm on the street. 

“Why did you say your exhibition was in Montauban?”

“I told you, I wanted-”

“Yes, I remember. I meant .. why not telling me it's in Toulouse?”

“Ah”, Grantaire smiles slightly. “I thought it would be weird. The coincidence would be too big”, he shrugs. 

Enjolras nods and leans into the seat once again. “Yeah, weird”, he mumbles and shrugs. 

It s still weird for him. He really doesn't get it. He wouldn't give up one of his protests just to get to know somebody, would he? No. He's sure of that and still there is Grantaire who should be at another place and still drives him to Montauban because he wants to. 

“Enjolras”, the other says and he nods to let him know he's listening. 

“Now that .. you know it. Do you want me to drive you to Toulouse?”

“What? No!”

Grantaire bites his lip and fixes his gaze outside. His body is firm and stiff. Enjolras sighs. “I meant, you already drove through half the country for me. You should get back as soon as possible”

Grantaire laughs at that and shakes his head. “Until I'm there, it's closed anyway. There's no difference now if I drive you to Montauban or Toulouse. And I still want to get to know you a little better”, he looks over to him and smiles.   
Enjolras shrugs. 

“So”, Grantaire starts and goes silent after that word. 

“So?”, Enjolras repeats and raises his eyebrow at him. 

“Tell me something about you”

Enjolras snorts and shakes his head. 

“Come on. I'm only taking you with me, because I want to get to know you. So, I know you're an idealist who is besotted by politics and making the world a better place”, he says and grins brightly but still weirdly. 

“And you are a cynic who is an artist and cares way too little about himself and his stuff. And you are too trusting for your own good.”

Grantaire shrugs, his smile fades a little bit but it is still there. 

“I am”, he confirms. “What would life be without taking risks? Boring, and I would have never met you”. 

Enjolras doesn't reply, he shakes his head in silence and observes Grantaire. His nose is a little too long. His eyes are a very deep blue. He has a designer stubble which makes him older than he is. That's what Enjolras guesses. This guy is still a mystery to him. He doesn't really get the way he thinks or why he's doing, whatever he does. 

“Am I so charming?”, Grantaire says after a while, still watching the traffic. 

“What?”

“You're staring”

“Am not”

“Aw, are you blushing?”

Enjolras has no idea, how Grantaire can see him, although he's not looking at him. 

“I am not. Stop assuming stuff”, he turns around again, listening to Grantaire humming happily. 

 

They change seats again. Enjolras knows where to drive and after a while Grantaire agrees, changing. They started arguing a while ago and now nobody says a word. 

Enjolras doesn't like it. He is so cynic about everything he says. Whatever Enjolras' opinion is, Grantaire's is completely different. So he decided to stop talking and concentrates on the traffic which grows thicker. Grantaire is scribbling furiously on a sketchbook, sometimes looking out of the window as if to think or to imagine something. He can only see his movements from the corner of his eye. 

 

“Can you call Combeferre?”, he asks after a while and Grantaire raises his head. 

“Why?”, he mumbles and stretches. 

“Because now there will be no need for picking me up in Montauban”, he says matter of factly and Grantaire nods, reaching behind him and taking Enjolras' backpack. 

“Your cell phone is in there, right?”, he says and already rummages through his bag. He makes a quiet noise of victory when he finds his phone and looks at it. 

“So, Combeferre was the name?”, he asks and Enjolras nods shortly. 

He stays silent when Grantaire presses the phone on his ear and hums a funny melody. 

“Hi, is that Courfeyrac?”, he asks and Enjolras huffs, throwing an unsatisfied gaze at him. 

“Yeah, it's Grantaire again. Mr. I need to loosen up a little is to stubborn to call while driving”, Grantaire says and laughs at a reply. “Yeah, right. Whatever. Plan changed, we'll drive to Toulouse. No need to pick Apollo up”, he says and waits again. “No, no he didn't make me drive to that place. I suggested it”, he laughs again and agrees to something Courfeyrac said. 

“We'll be there soon”, Grantaire finishes the phone call and puts his cell phone back into the bag and then tosses it behind him on the backseat. 

“Thanks”, Enjolras says and Grantaire smiles. 

 

Slowly Enjolras gets tired. He doesn't drive often and if he does, it's not for such a long time. Even with splitting the driving hours with Grantaire. He hates it.  
Usually.   
But now, talking with Grantaire, telling each other traits which are remarkable for them, he doesn't complain. The artist is interesting.   
He is messy, except when he is painting.   
He hates art in classes, no matter if in college or school, but reads the college art books.   
Sometimes Enjolras is laughing and every time he does, Grantaire looks at him in awe and stops talking until Enjolras blushes and concentrates on the street again. 

They drive through Montauban and reach Toulouse soon after that. 

Enjolras stops talking.

He glances to his watch. There is still a lot of time until the protest begins. There's no need to hurry. But still, he doesn't feel comfortable. It is not because he doesn't enjoy his company, it's more like he doesn't want them to part. No matter how much they argued, he kind of likes him, which is weird, thinking of the little time they shared. And of how much they argued. 

“You're quiet”, Grantaire observes from next to him and Enjolras smiles slightly. 

“Yeah”, he says. “I'm driving. The traffic is terrible”

“Noticed”, Grantaire says and sits up a little. 

“When will we be there?”

“It's just around the corner”, Enjolras answers while watching the traffic intensely and Grantaire nods shortly. 

They say nothing while Enjolras drives around the corner and stops the car at a parking space. Grantaire looks at him and smiles in a weird way. Like he is sad or something. 

“Well, it was nice”, he says and Enjolras nods, being at a loss of words, which usually come to him so easily. 

“Yes”, he says finally. Enjolras clears his throat and grabs for his backpack, setting it down onto his legs, while Grantaire still looks at him. 

He doesn't do anything, just looks at him affectionately. Enjolras wants to say something, like thanking him for taking him with him or asking him for his number, so he can give him some money back for fuel. 

But he thinks that's not what Grantaire has in mind, because he leans closer to him and brings one of his hands up to his cheek. Enjolras doesn't do anything, he just looks into those blue eyes until he feels a warm, pleasant pressing against his lips. He closes his eyes.

The kiss is simple. It is neither pushing nor forcing. There are just lips pressing softly against lips in such an innocent way, Enjolras can't describe.

When Grantaire's hand slips from his cheek and the warm feeling from his lips vanish, he opens his eyes and looks at the artist, whose eyes are still closed. He swallows and studies the face of the other man, who he just met this day. 

“I'm sorry”, Grantaire says so quietly, Enjolras almost didn't hear it. 

“There's no need to be sorry”, he mumbles and Grantaire finally opens his eyes. They are so full of hope, Enjolras is afraid that he might crush it by saying something inappropriate. This is something he can do well. 

Grantaire nods while Enjolras grabs his bag again, opens the door and gets out of the car. Grantaire does so as well, closes the door behind him and goes over to the driver's seat. 

Enjolras doesn't know what to do, how to behave or what to say. The artist brushes his arm when he goes past him and then sits down in his car. He closes the door, starts the engine and looks out of the window at Enjolras. He smiles, waves his hand and pulls the car around to drive back the same way they came from.

Enjolras watches the car until it vanishes behind a corner. He sighs quietly and shakes his head. It is weird. When he met him, he wanted nothing but get rid of him and now that he is gone, he wants him back. He shakes his head. It wouldn't have worked out anyways. Whatever the thing between them was. It is better this way. 

Not really convinced by himself he opens his backpack to take the map, where he signed their meeting point. 

That's what he actually was looking for, but instead a loose folded paper falls out of his bag. Enjolras kneels down and opens it. It's a sketch of him. A hand curled into a fist, his hair flying in the wind, a determined expression on his face. The sketch really is breathtaking. He has no idea, how Grantaire was capable of drawing such a good picture of him in the little time they had. He really is good. 

On the bottom are scribbled words, which are hard to decipher. But he is sure they say: 

“I didn't believe in anything. Until today”. 

Enjolras smiles somewhat proudly and turns the page around. 

“In the unusual case you want to stay in touch with me. Thanks for letting me getting to know you, Apollo”

Underneath those words was a number scribbled. A cell phone number. Grantaire's cell phone number. Enjolras smiles when he puts the page back, takes the map and goes, meeting Combeferre.


End file.
